A Chime in Budapest

The bread comes to bed with us,
and rises with us too.
In the morning we shrink
and bathe in the sink
First I wear white, and then
nothing (but you).
There's still blood in my shoe.Mein honig,
St. Stephen’s been skinning
my poor
achilles up to step
three-sixty-four.
But in Kun Utca’s heat, zealous and dumb
His dome tastes like
the dark weight of a plum.
We said that we’d go find some figs,
but instead,
We loved three times before lunch
and twice before bed.